


Will I Fall

by ThatPieDough



Category: Supernatural, The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Becoming Negan, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Family Loss, Gen, Hunter John Winchester, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicial Thoughts, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Third Person Limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 18:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20953100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatPieDough/pseuds/ThatPieDough
Summary: Before the outbreak, he had everything he could have ever wanted: home, family, and purpose. The events leading up to and after are what almost destroyed him. He's thrown into the fire, the darkness beginning to surround him, but he must take matters into his own hands if he is to survive this new reality.





	1. Will I Survive

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2016 after Negan's first appearance in the show. Inspiration for this story comes from the song "Will I Fall" by Zayde Wølf.
> 
> The biggest of thanks goes to my best friend for always supporting me and my writing.

There was darkness and then, blinding light. Spotlights streamed through the RV’s grime coated windows. He sat there, alone and still, waiting for his shining moment to arrive. He had great, terrible plans for the group kneeling in the dirt beyond the metal door. As he sat there, however quiet he may have been, he was at war. The sudden light had unwillingly reminded him of his eternal enemy and tormentor: fire.

  


* * *

  


The night was still, the house was dark. He and his wife had finally managed to wrangle their two young sons into bed and were looking forward to turning in for the night as well. In that moment, he was the happiest man alive. Loving wife, two brilliant children, and a two-story house that they gladly got to call “home.” He had everything he could ever want and need. Little did he know that a chain reaction was going to be put into effect that would take it all away forever. All it took was a spark.

The firemen put the blame on faulty wiring, as if it would make him feel better to hear. Before his family, he was used to loss. His previous line of work forced him to face it every day without fail, but nothing could ever compare to this moment in time. The fire had begun down the hall, in one of the boys’ rooms, and quickly spread to the next room and the next. In one evening, he had lost both his children and his home. All that remained after the tragedy was his wife, and he vowed with every fiber of his being to protect her until the end of time.

Just like that, time ended. There was an outbreak of a terminal virus. It spread throughout the country like wildfire through dry summer grass. Much like how the flames engulfed his home, the virus took over the world slowly at first and then all at once. The scientists and medical professionals had proof that the virus was a slow killer, but they failed to learn in time that it also had a way of bringing those infected back from death. They came back, but they were not truly alive. They were empty shells, their souls remained lost in the void, and they were determined to make up for that emptiness by feeding on the flesh of the true living.

The never ending cycle of death surrounded them now, and he wondered how long it would take for the inevitable to occur. It had been weeks, maybe even months, since the beginning of it all, and he would be lying if he said that he was not afraid. Oh, yes, he was afraid. Afraid of the infected, of not knowing when his last breath would be taken, and most importantly, he was afraid of breaking his promise to his wife. Her safety was his top priority. When they were together, he felt unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with. She was the light of his life, always had been. Like all lights, however, there is always an intense darkness waiting for the chance to extinguish them.

They were running low on food and various other supplies. His wife had suggested that they leave their fortified space just long enough to search for more. Not denying her wishes, he agreed and out they went. To this day, he can not recall what happened before they had stumbled upon a promising little grocery store. The one thing he can remember is the excited, accomplished look on his wife’s face. The building seemed to be untouched by the outside world aside from the dusty windows lining the front. All was quiet, perhaps too quiet, but they were desperate for what the store might contain and continued forward. Every shelf showed evidence of past taken items, but there had been plenty left behind for them to make use of for a decent while. He watched as his wife took to looking through cans on an aisle next to his before kneeling and packing his backpack full of other essentials. The only sounds to be heard were cans being stacked together, the fabric of their packs ruffling, and scraping of items from the shelves. He blames himself, he should have been paying more attention. If he had, he would have heard the underlying sound of shuffling feet against the tiled flooring in the next aisle over. If only he had noticed in time, maybe then the next sound he heard would not have been his wife screaming in agony.

Life was insufferable after that. His light was gone and with her passing came the darkness that had loomed not too far behind him for so long. It was the same darkness that had taken his sons away, he could tell, and this time it was mocking him. It was laughing in his face and constantly reminding him that his promise was broken almost as if it were begging for his surrender. He was on the brink of giving in, the thought of seeing his family on the other side comforting him, but there was a split second that another thought crossed his mind. At first, the idea began as a flutter, hovering just out of reach. The more he considered it, the more it was given the opportunity to take root into his mind until it became firm and unmovable.

He had made up his mind. It all hurt too much, the heartache was paralyzing. He knew that the only way for him to continue to survive was to lock everything away, and so he did. Every memory and emotion was pushed into the back of his mind. In doing so, he would create himself a new identity and become a different person entirely, someone capable of surviving in this savage world. Before he could complete the process, there was a single image floating through his head. The image was of a beautiful, blonde woman smiling towards the camera he had quickly pointed her way. It had been taken on one of their son’s birthdays. The happiness on her face was genuine and carefree. The image pulled a distinct word from the inner recesses of his mind. The word was a name. The name he knew belonged to his light, his promise, his wife. Just like the rest of his past, that too was pushed back into the vault and shut away to be forgotten.

_"Mary..."_

  


* * *

  


He tried not to think of his past life, but in rare instances such as this, the memories would not stop, forcing their way through the barriers he had constructed over many years. They were painful reminders of what he lost, what he promised, and what he failed to do. It was still too much to bear, so he continued to shove it all away, never to see the light of day again. At least that is what he tried to do. After all, it was merely a distraction now, and he had work to do. He had to set an example of the opposing group for the sake of himself and his legion of followers. They all had to be reminded every once in a while who was in charge. Of his followers, he knew he had their loyalty and respect. He had even saved many of them from their own deaths in wandering out on their own, but he had to ensure that he had absolute control of them. If he lost that control, he feared he would lose everything he had worked so hard for, everything that he cared about. He would not let that happen again.

He emerged from the beat up RV ready to bring about judgement to the group kneeling before him. Even knowing they were beat down in every way possible, they all carried an air of defiance about them. There was a certain amount of lethal intent that he was use to, and he would be sure to let them know how he ran things around here soon enough. He walked a leisurely line in front of them, resembling a tiger taunting his prey before the initial leap. He could not help but notice the way one of the men to the side of the group kept glancing to a sickly looking woman towards the center. His look was desperate and pleading. It was obvious that they were involved with each other, maybe even married. At that thought, he froze, eyes closing in annoyance. The memories were trying to claw their way out again and now of all times. The familiar inner voice that came with them was pleading, too. Through the static in his mind, he kept hearing the voice shout the same phrase over and over without end. _“This is not you! This is not you! This is not yo--!”_ ENOUGH.

His eyes snapped open and he smiled widely, slowly pacing in front of the group once more. If it had been in a different life, — hell, it had been once — he might have stopped to consider the words his past had fabricated. How long had it been since he last heard the voice? No matter, that was then and this is now.

Now, there is one thing he is certain of.

“Eeny…”

One thing he will always be certain of.

“Meeny…”

John Winchester is dead.

“Miny…”

This is Negan.

“Moe.”

When the initial swing of his favorite barbed wire covered bat hit true, he saw the two things that brought the past crashing down into his thoughts. In an instant, pain lit up their eyes, spreading like fire. Once the fire grew too large to bare, the darkness overtakes them. Darkness brings fire, fire releases darkness, and darkness takes over.


	2. Additonal Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something that came to me while I was in the process of writing the main story.

Gasping for air, the man came to. His vision was blurred from the intense pain that was thundering throughout his head. His ears were ringing, but he managed to make out a distinct shout coming from somewhere around him. The voice grew in clarity as his sight slowly returned. Was that all a vision? If so, a vision of when? Everything about what he just saw did not make any sense to him. Through his trance-like state, he noticed that he was laying on the floor with his back partially propped up against the leg of a table.

“Dean? Dean!?”

His eyes snapped to the man in front of him. Concern laced the man’s face and it was then that said man's identity registered in his mind.

“Sammy?” He barely groaned out. The pain he was feeling was worse than any hangover he had ever experienced and that was saying something.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Can you hear me? Are you finally back?”

“I think so,” Dean said as he looked around at the bunker’s library. He had never been so happy to see books either. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. You just kind of passed out on me while we were in the middle of talking about the case,” Sam explained, warily eyeing his brother, “Dean, what happened while you were out? You look half scared to death, man. Like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean straightened up into a sitting position, “I guess I kind of I have.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw dad.”


End file.
